


Wanderlust

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Road Trips, Romantic Fluff, Sensuality, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21607117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: There is more to Lucis than meets the eye. On a small, seasonal roadtrip through the countryside, Noctis is quick to learn this. He's even quicker to fall in love with it. Because he can see so much of the man he loves in those wild, autumn vistas.A short story for the nyxnoct fall/winter event, about the ending of seasons and the beginnings of something new.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Nyx Ulric
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29
Collections: NyxNoctWeek





	1. Leide

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 1 of the NyxNoct Fall/Winter Event on [tumblr!](https://nyxnoctocalypse.tumblr.com/post/189069149497/nyxnoct-fallwinter-event-lets-give-the-changing)

“So… This is Lucis.”

Noctis had read about Lucis. He’d seen pictures of Lucis on travel websites, news articles, and country living blogs (country moms had _the best_ recipes; he would not be shamed for browsing their posts at two in the morning when he had a craving, damnit). Noctis knew Lucis. Of course he did! He was going to inherit the whole lot of it one day, so he damn well have _better_ known Lucis.

Bumping across the old asphalt road now though, Noctis couldn’t feel more like an alien in a foreign land than if he had crash landed on Eos from a far distant moon.

“This is _Leide_ ,” Nyx specified from the driver’s seat. “Yeah. I know. Doesn’t exactly give you the best first impression.”

Noctis didn’t say anything. He felt like even the vaguest note of disappointment, especially from himself, would be anathema to every last person living in Leide. Not that anyone would hear him from the cramped seats of the truck, not unless he shouted it from the passenger side window at the first person he spotted. He wasn’t going to do that, yet still, something about the vast, empty landscape felt… unguarded. It was so empty of any shields to buffer sound that he felt like, if he let even the faintest whisper of dismay escape his lips across the open plain, it would just keep going on forever until it landed in someone’s ear.

He wasn’t really disappointed. He knew that centuries of warfare and Imperial incursion had taken its toll on his homeland. But he’d never been able to conceptualize just how severe the impact was. He felt pity for Leide – though, that might have been even worse than disappointment. Either way, the dry yellow wasteland left a stain on what was supposed to be an otherwise happy excursion.

“It’ll get better the closer we get to Duscae,” Nyx promised.

“Right. Wouldn’t want to make a liar out of you,” Noctis teased.

Nyx cocked a smile to his side, eyes intent on the road – though there was nothing else for miles that he could possibly crash into, should his focus wane. Nyx had promised Noct deep, lush forests exploding with color now that autumn had spilled across the kingdom like a pail of mixed paints. He’d promised bright orange maples and dark russet oaks and stubborn green pines, quiet blue lakes patterned with the sunset lattice-work of fallen leaves, plastered to the surface like patterns on a stained glass window…

Well, Noctis had made those promises… In his head… While he sat and translated Nyx’s reports of greater Lucis into visions more romantic than Nyx meant them to sound.

Leide was not any of that. It was a dust bowl in every sense of the saying, stripped down to its bedrock by time and trial and tiredness. They were only just leaving Ostium Gorge though, covered in its sloppy skeletons of Imperial barricades like a nest of dead thorns poking at Insomnia’s toes. He shouldn’t be so quick to judge, Noctis told himself.

Especially not when the first sign of civilization was so fascinatingly bizarre.

“The hell is that?”

Noctis propped his elbow against the rolled down window and leaned out. Nyx slowed down just enough so he could get a good look at the strange, scrap metal structure rising up from the wastes.

“Hammerhead,” Nyx chuckled. “Don’t ask how it got the name. Some inside joke of the owner’s, I guess.”

“Never stopped in to ask?”

Nyx shook his head. “Kingsglaive tend to steer clear.”

“What?” Noctis laughed, in disbelief. “Why?”

Nyx clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Cranky old coot who owns the place isn’t exactly all, ‘ _Gods save the King_ ’ y’know? Good guy, don’t get me wrong, but you’ll find that’s the case with most people out here. Lucians aren’t quite as pro-Crown as Insomnians.”

Noctis chewed on his lower lip, watching the hammerhead shark’s sharp, silvery teeth graze the truck as Nyx made their turn. “Well, dude modeled a whole business after a fish,” he said. “Sounds like my kinda crazy.”

Nyx chuckled at that, and Noctis sat up a little straighter, pleased with himself for successfully lightening the mood. He returned his attention to the people milling about Hammerhead’s parking lot before they slipped out of view. Any pride he might have just felt was suddenly washed out in a spray of self-consciousness, blowing over him through the open window.

It was probably a stupid thing to notice. He’d never taken much stock in his own fashion before, but then, he didn’t need to, not when most people in the Crown City were privileged with the same shopping centers and online catalogs to order from. The people he looked at now could not look more different though: pastel shirts and cargo pants, work boots and baseball caps, bandanas and bangles and beaten up windbreakers.

Noctis sat back in his seat and picked at the expensive, tailored, and totally _not_ incognito battle garb Cor had insisted he wear with him on his trip beyond the city. He’d advised Noct to keep a low profile – thus the old rental truck – but the clothes and the Crownsguard exclusive smart phone and all of the other city specific accoutrement Cor had loaded on him kind of defeated that purpose.

“What’s up Noct?” Nyx asked, noting the abrupt lapse into silence.

“Nothing,” he lied, then sighed, fiddling the collar of his jacket between thumb and forefinger. “I just… don’t want to draw attention, if what you say is true. About people not liking the royals.”

“The only attention you need to worry about is mine. And I think you look hot in black,” Nyx declared. “But by all means, if you want to take your clothes off...”

Noctis snorted in laughter. “And there are people back home who think our relationship is ‘inappropriate.’”

“Don’t know where they could have gotten that idea.”

Noctis shook his head, rolling his eyes and leaving his clothes alone – and very much _on._ It was far too chilly to go streaking across Leide for his boyfriend’s amusement, anyway. The cloudless sky and the vivid white disc of its sun were deceptively cold, slung low over the plains like a silk blue shawl: fashionable, but impractical; like it was just trying to improve the tundra’s appearance rather than help it stay warm for the coming winter. While Noct’s royal blacks were woven to withstand the worst threats Lucis might throw at him… warmth could definitely be improved upon. He’d have to take that up with the Crownsguard when he went back.

Nyx, on the other hand, made practicality look fashionable and he didn’t even need to try – though Noctis didn’t have the most impartial of perspectives. Nyx just threw on a pair of blue jeans and the dusty leather jacket from the back of his closet that he liked to call “a mystery,” because he couldn’t remember buying it or ever being given it. It was no mystery at all how it added to his rugged charm. How it only served to enhance the sinuous ease with which he traversed the wild Leiden countryside, one hand on the wheel commanding imperceptible directions to the rickety engine.

Noctis could have happily reconciled the rest of the drive with admiring the view within the truck rather than without. He’d have no complaints tracing Nyx’s jawline in place of majestic mountain ranges and scenic skylines for the next few hours if he had to.

Unfortunately for both Nyx’s ego and Noct’s self-gratification, Leide was just beginning to peak ahead of them… Quite literally. Noctis hadn’t noticed it at first. Every rocky plateau looked so small and unremarkable from a distance. But as the long road fed beneath their tires, carrying them closer, what Noctis would have assumed as just another rock grew into a massive, expansive, dizzyingly towering, sky-scraping mountain.

He heard Ignis’s voice in his head, whenever he came face to face with something which significantly cowed him into such mesmerized captivation, that he could only ever manage one word to describe it: _“Magnificent.”_

“Wow,” Noctis said now, awestruck. “That’s as tall as the Citadel!”

“Longwythe Peak,” Nyx informed him, a fount of chipper, tour-guide grade factoids. “Been here far longer than the Citadel.”

“No shit,” Noctis chuckled. “Damn…”

The mountain blanketed Leide’s topaz tundra in a shadow that stretched for miles. He twisted as far out his window as he could manage without hurting his back to see if it reached all the way back to Hammerhead.

“People are going to think I’m traveling with a puppy instead of the Crown Prince,” Nyx huffed like a put-upon pet-owner, reaching over to tug Noctis back inside by the collar of his jacket.

“Speaking of puppies, Prompto will probably bite me if I don’t get a picture for him. Pull over a sec?”

Nyx pressed his lips together, dipping his head beneath the windshield to scan the broad swathe of scrubland between the road and the rock. “I don’t know, Noct…”

“C’mon,” Noctis whined. “One quick pic. For Prompto.”

Nyx gave him a weak glare for using the emotional blackmail of Prompto’s potentially pouty face against him – and for the unsaid “for me” he used underneath it. It was almost unfair how quickly Nyx pulled over at that. Noctis bounced out of the truck the second it shuddered to a stop. It was even colder underneath Longwythe Peak, the border between shadow and sunlight as drastic of a change in climate as Lucis and Niflheim.

“Noct.” Nyx walked up like a lantern behind him, radiating heat against the mid-autumn chill. “We’ve got to be careful. The wildlife out here is… well, _wild._ ”

“I know, I know. No selfies with the sabertusks. Don’t worry, I came armed.”

He grinned at Nyx, squeezing the glaive’s arm, feeling the density of his bicep beneath the leather sleeve. While Noctis had his own weapons to wield, just a wave of his hand away in the Armiger, Nyx was by far his best defense. His smile alone was a deadly enough weapon. And he’d been doing that a lot more since they first got approval to leave the Crown City. Not that it had ever been in short supply for Noctis before then, but being beyond the sights of a million scrutinizing eyes gave them both the freedom not to have to pick and choose the time and place for it.

There wasn’t a single set of eyes on them out here in Leide. Noctis spotted maybe one car per half hour rumble past them. For the first time in his life, Noctis heard nothing but silence. No midday traffic, no robotic news voices, no static in his ears, listening to security personnel warn him about all the possible ways he could die should the next diplomat he meet not be as altruistic in their intent as they said they were.

All he heard out here was the wind. Maybe the distant trumpeting of a dualhorn calling for its mate. And the only eyes on them were that of the mountain. He wasn’t even sure if it saw them, or if they were just two more grains of dust whistling across the plains beneath its shadow.

Noctis wasn’t nearly as good of a photographer as Prompto, and his smart phone wasn’t designed for picture taking so much as it was for tracking his location for Cor’s peace of mind. But it wasn’t the lighting or the composition he wanted to share with his friend, just the sheer mass of the rock and how tiny he felt in comparison. He used Nyx as his model, despite his boyfriend’s endearing compliments that Noctis would make a far prettier picture than he.

“I’m sure Prompto would beg to differ,” Noctis insisted, batting his palms against Nyx’s back to position him in a spot where he could best capture the scale of Longwythe Peak.

“Taking the opinion of another man over mine?” Nyx chuckled, humoring Noct by letting him think he had the upper body strength to physically move him. “Should I be worried?”

“If you don’t smile like a frontier magazine model, then yeah. You should be worried.”

“Easy to smile for you, babe.”

Nyx caught Noct’s hip in his hand and breathed the words against the side of his hair before Noctis fled a few feet away to take the shot. His face felt hot, his own smile ached against his cheeks, and the goosebumps on his arms _might_ have been from the arid autumn air if he felt like lying to himself. For such an open expanse of amber plains, there was still something strangely private about just how empty it all was. It made them both a little bit bolder than they might have been in the city.

Noctis tried to fit as much of Longwythe Peak as he could into the tiny frame of his phone, waving to Nyx to strike a pose and smile. He didn’t need to do a whole lot to look good, hooking one hand in the pocket of his jeans and shifting his weight so the sling of his hips crooked towards the lens. For a second, Noctis forgot that Longwythe Peak was supposed to be the focus of the shot.

“Nice shot?” Nyx called over to him once he stood up.

“Oh yeah,” Noctis murmured to himself. He almost didn’t want to share it with Prompto after all. He tucked the phone into his back pocket, then waved towards the mountain. “Wanna get closer?”

“To the mountain or to me?”

Noctis trotted out of Nyx’s reach before he could encourage the latter. Instead, he goaded him into a chase closer towards the rock. There was more to see in Leide than his initial skepticism had tried to convince him. It was easier to see without the four rusty walls of the truck boxing in his view. Beneath his feet, the dusty earth was dressed in downy golden grasses, wore thin yellowing trees straight from the savannahs of his old storybooks, and donned hardy red bushes that grew so low to the ground that they looked like patches of dirt from a distance.

It was one such red bush that caught his attention, when he had the good sense to stop staring up at Longwythe Peak for so long that he gave himself vertigo. They’d gone right up to the base of the summit, despite Nyx’s trepidation about straying too far from the truck. He prowled the perimeter as quietly as any predator that might be padding through the brush around them, his stride careful and controlled, hands poised like claws ready to unsheathe in the Prince’s defense, the picture of deadly, efficient grace…

While Noctis babbled about potatoes.

“Do these just grow wild out here?”

The red leafy patch of dirty pressed beneath the shade of the mountain had almost been invisible inside the cleft of stone. He would have passed right by it if the sunlight hadn’t beamed against the ruddy heads of the spuds at just the right angle.

“Yeah, they do,” Nyx told him, sparing the scarcest glance from his vigil to see what had grabbed the prince’s attention like a kitten with a bell. “Especially this time of year, during harvest season? Leiden potatoes are busting out of the ground all over the place. Take some if you want.”

Noctis blinked up at Nyx like he’d just ordered him to steal diamonds right out of Altissia’s treasury. At least Nyx had the decency to _try_ and keep himself from laughing. Noctis frowned down at the ground, pushing the mahogany leaves from the spuds. “Just… take them? Without paying anybody for them?”

“Sure, there are some farmers further into Duscae that you could buy from. And the JM Market girls who drive around sell the same stuff too. But they all get it from the same place.”

Nyx nodded at the patch of potatoes, and at another hidden further down the length of the mountain that Noct hadn’t seen. He got the impression that Nyx had harvested from these spots a few times himself when out on scouting missions.

“That’s how it works out here,” Nyx explained. “You see something shiny while walking the wastes, you pick it up and make the most of it. What do you say? We feast on potato stew like the chocoboys of ye olde Leide?”

“Only if you do the twangy accent while you cook ‘em.”

“Darn tootin’, partner,” Nyx drawled, like an old timey gunslinger.

They made a sack from Nyx’s jacket and ended up combing the tundra beneath Longwythe Peak for far more potatoes than they could conceivably eat in the short time they had in Lucis. Nyx also found a patch of late Leiden peppers, left behind and over-looked from the summer harvest; a patch of little crimson stars crawling along a low mesa whimpering beneath Longwythe’s domineering height. The shadow of the mountain was just starting to deepen as the sun slowly circled behind its peak. That was when Nyx insisted they head back to the truck. It was still dangerous to travel the roads after dark.

Noctis didn’t object, content with their impromptu harvest and eager to make a feast out of it. But it was just his freaking luck that, as he was envisioning a warm, hearty bowl of stew steaming against his nose, a pack of sabertusks were dreaming of making a meal out of the two of them.

Nyx saw them first. It was practically supernatural, just how quickly he could spot danger, which was being so purposefully stealthy that Noctis never would have seen them if Nyx didn’t. The pack appeared from the scant shade of the trees, as stick-thin and gnarled as the brown branches themselves. Noct’s first instinct upon meeting the blank, beady gray eyes of the beasts… surprised himself. Maybe he was just drawing on Nyx’s courage, bracing his own nerve on the taut pull of his shoulders that squared up the second he saw the sabertusks. Maybe he was just braver than he ever thought he might be.

Noct’s first instinct was not to run, but to fight. He slowly placed Nyx’s jacket full of potatoes and peppers on the ground, then flexed his fingers beneath his bracer, feeling the air at his fingertips for the phantom hilt of a blade.

“Wanna put all our late night drills to the test?” he asked Nyx, keeping his voice low.

Nyx smirked, a deep slash of sinister, _sexy_ delight carved across his face as he dragged his kukris from the crystal ether. He winked at Noctis, reminding him what else they got up to on those late nights spent sweating in the practice arena. Not that Noctis needed any reminding.

“There’s a motel half a mile up the road to test those drills,” Nyx told him.

“Not in front of the hungry hellbeasts, hero.”

They made quick work of the predators, motivated by the promise of a cheap bed to crash into and all that implied. There were three sabertusks in total, one for each of them to warp and weave around, and one to catch Noctis off guard when his back was turned. He was pretty proud of how he was handling the fight up until the thing pounced on him. He followed the litany of combat instruction he’d received over the years to the letter, taking the right steps, warping when he needed to, and just generally keeping himself alive. He thought that was quite the accomplishment.

Getting pinned to the dirt just a hair’s breadth after slaying his first sabertusk kind of killed that buzz. He dropped his Engine Blade into the Armiger the instant he saw it coming, throwing up his arms to protect his head from its teeth. His back hit the dirt and his arm scraped beneath the sabertusk’s jaws, grappling to keep it as far away from his throat as he could. Its breath was hot and rancid in his face, like roadkill steaming in the sun for too long. He felt its paws digging against his sides.

Panic bolted through him when he glimpsed the huge, sickle-shaped claws. They just barely began to dig into his ribs before Nyx came crackling from a warp-strike, into the sabertusk’s flank. They both went barreling off to the side, freeing Noctis from the frantic weight of the thing. He staggered to his feet, pressing a hand to his side in search of blood. He didn’t feel anything. Beside him, Nyx steamed and simmered with the King’s magic, drawing his kukris from the beast’s corpse, then dropping them into the Crystal’s cool void.

What had felt like a century beneath the sabertusk’s claws, had barely been a blink of the afternoon. Nyx didn’t even break a sweat, his breathing just barely elevated as he stalked over to Noctis. His features were hard and wrinkled for just a moment as he scanned Noctis for any sign of injury. Then, just as quickly, they softened, his jaw going slack and his smile loosing itself back across his face to crinkle the little stains of ink at the corners of his eyes.

“You lived!”

“You’re surprised?”

“Not even slightly.”

Nyx was proud of him. Worried, but proud. It poured off of him like the glow off a campfire, encompassing Noctis in warmth. He might have stood there smiling at him all night if Noctis didn’t clear his throat and remind him about the motel. He knew that his face must have been embarrassingly pink, thinking about how much praise Nyx was no doubt itching to give him for even the smallest scrubland scrap. Luckily, the autumn air cooled him off the darker it started to get. Hopefully he wouldn’t look like too much of a mess when they pulled into the motel.

They collected their harvest and Nyx did a little more harvesting of his own, taking claws from the corpses for some purpose Noctis didn’t know, but would be sure to ask about later. He’d never seen Nyx kill before. Noctis himself had never killed anything before then, either. He felt kind of bad about it – sabertusks were just doing what sabertusks did, he thought. But Nyx, and Cor, and Clarus, and the King himself had warned him before he left: it was kill or be killed out here.

He pondered that as they drove the rest of the way to the Longwythe Rest Area. He debated the merits of that philosophy as Nyx checked them into the Three Z’s Motel – charming name; creepy guy behind the counter. He wondered if his instinct to fight first and ask questions later was really a good thing or not, right up until they set their luggage on the floor of their room, locked the door behind them, Nyx touched his shoulder, and Noctis had every intention of turning around to let him pin him to the wall or the mattress or wherever he wanted him… only to flinch out from underneath the touch.

“What the f-“

Noctis was just as alarmed by the reflex as Nyx was, reaching up to the sharp sting of pain that bloomed against his shoulder when he’d touched him. He finished that swear when he pulled his fingers from beneath his sleeve to find them covered in blood. The damn sabertusk got him. He didn’t know when, he didn’t know how – or how he didn’t notice it before then – but the damn thing got him.

Nyx put a hand on his other shoulder, delicately this time, and guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, quick and clinical. Not the way Noctis was hoping he would put him there. He instructed him to take off his jacket. Noctis was rather hoping he’d do that for him. _Way to kill a mood_ , he cursed the dead sabertusk in his head.

His face went aflame for an entirely different reason now, mortified by how quickly his pain had thrown a damp towel on what he’d hoped would have been a voracious evening. Nyx, stupid, smiling saint that he was, set down on the bed next to him, rolled his sleeve up, and did his best to brighten the mood while he checked the wound.

“Hey, you’re just like everyone else in Lucis now. Sabertusk scars are all the rage around here.”

Noctis snorted, less enthused by that notion than he might have been two hours ago. True enough, the clothes he’d been lamenting over being _too_ _good_ for blending in were now appropriately caked in Leide’s dust. This was what he got for daring to even _think_ a vaguely negative thought about the region when they’d first driven in. Noctis thought “kill or face the karma” was a more apt philosophy for him right about now.

“This hasn’t exactly been the picturesque fall getaway we were going for, huh?” he mumbled.

“We’ve still got a long way to go, Noct,” Nyx assured him. He dragged one of their bags over to the foot of the bed and fished inside for one of the pre-made potions Noctis had whipped up for them before they set out. “Duscae will be a lot more colorful.”

“And a lot more dangerous?”

“That too. But nothing we can’t handle.”

Nyx dabbed a few drops of the potion around the punctures in Noct’s shoulder. He felt the balm soothe the sting straight from his skin in no time. It must have hurt worse than it actually was. The wound healed up completely in seconds. No scar after all. The shame was still there, though. Not even a hi-potion could heal that away.

“So,” Noctis sighed, resigning himself to the unsalvageable night in. “You’re making me a feast, right?”

“Yup.”

Noctis looked to the jacket full of produce on the floor, but Nyx cupped his face and pulled his gaze upwards. As suddenly as the sabertusk’s pounce, Nyx pinned Noct’s lips to his own. There was nothing frantic and blood-curdling about this grapple though. This was deep and indulgent, a slow sear against his mouth that lasted so long, Noctis lost his breath when Nyx pulled away.

“What?” Nyx said, his torrid blue eyes hooded as he smiled at his kissed dumb face. “You think I’m not going to take advantage of the fact that I have you all to myself, alone, in a cheap, roadside motel, after watching you take down a few sabertusks? You’re insanely sexy when you fight, by the way.”

It was stupid just how, well, _stupid_ Nyx could kiss him into being. Because the best he could manage to return on all of that was a, “Back atcha.”

He never was the best at being seductive. Somehow – and this still shocked him – that had never been a turn off for Nyx. Whatever. He was sexy enough for the both of them – which Noctis had told him. Various times. To great effect. Hey, if he got that same effect now for being too stupid to say anything sexy himself, he’d just take it.

Noctis kissed him this time, with renewed enthusiasm for the fact that Nyx was right. The motel room was… well. The walls were blue and watery looking, the colorless tiles on the ceiling were browning around the edges, and the striped bedsheets were scratchy beneath the palm Noct pressed down to balance himself as Nyx leaned over him, fitting his hips between his thighs. The motel was dirty and dingy, but Noctis kind of liked that. He liked not having to be the clean-cut paragon of princely virtue for once in his life.

Maybe that’s why he hadn’t liked Leide at first. It was too much like him: broken, battered, and a bit of a mess. Not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. But it was also wild and rough and unrelenting, rising above its own discord to touch the sky. Maybe there was some beauty in that. The way Nyx kissed him now, pressing him down on the bed so hard he could break him, yet so gently that it drove Noctis mad, made him really want to believe it.


	2. Duscae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Want to go over and meet him?”
> 
> Noctis shuddered and shook his head. He could enjoy Kenny’s salmon much better without Kenny’s unblinking stare watching his every bite. And they were deeply indulgent, succulent bites. It was far from the five star morsels that passed for a meal at Citadel functions, but if asked, Noctis would choose this heart attack in his last heartbeat.
> 
> “There’s a different kind of bird I’d rather meet,” Noctis said, fighting a stretch of melted cheese onto his fork.

Noctis woke up to a smell that he wasn’t expecting.

He wasn’t at all adverse to the scent though, not even in the slightest. If Nyx wanted to surprise him with fish for breakfast he was not about to complain, but still, he thought it warranted confusion. He specifically remembered potatoes and peppers foraged for the menu yesterday. Unless he’d been fishing in his sleep – which, _wow_ , would be quite a hit on the internet if anyone was awake to film the Crown Prince fishing in the middle of Leide in his birthday suit – he should not be smelling fish in his motel room.

Fewer things could motivate him to get out of bed faster than a feast of fish. Nyx knew that, of course, and it was most likely for precisely that purpose with which he obtained said fish, but Noctis couldn’t be annoyed by the possibility of ulterior motives. All he could be annoyed about was the airy cool of the room, forcing him to put clothes on once he crept out from under the covers. More annoying was the fact that Nyx was already dressed, too.

“From across the street,” Nyx explained, interpreting Noct’s bleary pout at both his state of dress and his paper bag of take-out. “When I promised you some good old fashioned home-cooking, I didn’t account for the fact our room would have no kitchen.”

Noct’s brow creased, blinking around at the narrow blue walls. Sure enough, their lodgings were equipped solely with one bed, two cracking leather chairs, a small coffee table, and a lamp on the tiny bedside table. In his foul mood the night before – and then Nyx’s distraction from it for the rest – Noctis hadn’t noticed how sparse the arrangement was when they’d first checked in. Well, the place was called the “Three Z’s Motel;” if the purpose was to have a place to sleep for the night, it certainly served that bare minimum well.

“You mean to tell me I nearly died for a sack of potatoes we’re not even going to eat?” he yawned.

“It’s all thanks to your valiant sacrifice that those potatoes will live to see another dinner.”

Nyx rewarded his previous evening’s heroics with a cup of hot coffee. Noctis greedily accepted his trophy, plopping down in the leather chair while Nyx set their food on the table.

A spicy autumn stew might have been one thing, but it was hard to mourn the healthier alternative when Nyx uncovered the take-out boxes to reveal the greasy, cheesy, seductive saboteur of cholesterol health everywhere laid within. A thick pink salmon steak, dressed in a dense gown of golden, garlicky cheese, beckoned Noctis closer with its steaming, savory, siren song.

“What’s across the street?” he asked, suddenly awake.

“Crow’s Nest. Biggest fast food chain in Lucis.”

“Heard of it. The one with the creepy mascot, right?”

“Want to go over and meet him?”

Noctis shuddered and shook his head. He could enjoy Kenny’s salmon much better without Kenny’s unblinking stare watching his every bite. And they were deeply indulgent, succulent bites. It was far from the five star morsels that passed for a meal at Citadel functions, but if asked, Noctis would choose this heart attack in his last heartbeat.

“There’s a different kind of bird I’d rather meet,” Noctis said, fighting a stretch of melted cheese onto his fork.

“As soon as you’re ready, we’ll hit the road again. It’s not a whole lot farther.”

While Noctis could have happily insisted they stay locked in their motel room with take-out and a pajamas optional policy for the rest of the trip, the kweh of chocobos called him onwards.

If he’d thought that their room was a little chilly, nothing could have prepared him for just how cold Leide felt without sunlight. It was early in the morning yet, barely past sunrise, and the wasteland wind was as frigid as a snow-capped mountain. It would warm up, Nyx promised, and he already had the heater in the truck going while he refilled the tank. It couldn’t get warm soon enough for Noctis, though.

Since he didn’t anticipate any more roadside scraps with sabertusks this trip, Cor would just have to forgive him for swapping out some of his wardrobe. He had a more casual, less resilient jacket in his luggage, one he took out often when fishing. It was puffy and had a high collar and was designed to keep a fisherman warm and dry by the bayside. He rummaged around for it in the bed of the truck while Nyx finished with the gas.

As he was sifting through his things and cursing under his breath over how cold it was, Noctis felt the familiar sensation of being watched. It was something he’d been forced to get used to, once he reached a certain age. He felt it like a cloud of static, pins and needles prickling into the back of his neck. Looking around the parking lot narrowed down his list of suspects fairly quickly. Aside from himself and Nyx, there was one other guy with his back to them as he climbed into his own truck, the old hotel clerk half asleep at the booth, and a woman sitting on the narrow porch in front of one of the rooms.

She was trying to be subtle about it, feigning early morning boredom as she flipped through a magazine, but Noctis had skirted too many prying eyes in his life not to be able to tell. It wasn’t malicious though, he knew that right away. She kept glancing up at him, her brow furrowed, like she couldn’t quite place where she knew him from. It wasn’t going to take her very long. Noctis recognized the cover of the magazine she was reading all too well. He had to dig through enough proofs for his approval after getting dragged into being the poster boy for Roen’s latest line enough to recognize it from a mile away. A few more pages in and his identity would be a secret no more.

“Think my cover’s about to be blown,” he hissed to Nyx when he came around back to check on him.

“Good thing we have a getaway car then,” Nyx said, scanning the parking lot with the same blank, bodyguard proficiency Noctis had watched him do a thousand times before.

Noctis shrugged into his coat, pulling the collar up as high as it could go. On the bright side, at least he had something he could rub in Cor’s face when he came back from this trip. He really hoped it was the expensive outfit that gave him away, just so he could hold the honor of an “I told you so” over his head. Nyx diverted the woman’s next curious glance with a friendly wave while Noctis scuttled into the passenger seat. He spied on her reflection in the side mirror as she tentatively waved back to the stranger. Just as Nyx climbed up to the steering wheel, Noctis watched her turn the page of the magazine and a stunned clarity struck across her face, just in time for the Crown Prince of Lucis to be driven off into the sunrise.

For the rest of the drive, Noctis reaped through the various news feeds on his phone, just waiting for word to get out that a vigilant citizen had uncovered the Prince’s thinly veiled plot to travel across Lucis for the Autumn Vale Festival. He waited for a dozen black city cars to come stampeding into his rearview mirror, charging from Insomnia to catch some country candids of the Prince and his “consort.” But the rest of their drive went unmolested, the headlines remaining benign.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Noct,” Nyx said, without Noctis saying anything at all. “People out here are cut from a different cloth.”

“A cloth with courtesy?” Noctis mumbled, not really believing it.

“Exactly.”

There was no sarcasm to Nyx’s answer – though it would take the remainder of their trip for Noctis to understand how true it really was. No one really cared who he was out here. Lucis was like a mirror to Insomnia, every last detail inverted. The image was the same, but the reflection was not. Everything was opposite: the barren roads of Leide versus the packed metros of the city districts; the reserved smiles of strangers versus the hyper casualty of selfies in the streets; the polite acknowledgment that he was one of them versus the obsession of _making_ him one with them.

He felt a kind of kinship with Lucis the deeper they drove. When he glanced at his own reflection in the side mirror, he couldn’t have _looked_ more separate, but he _felt_ like he was a part of it already. Like the inverted angles of his face belonged to the rugged horizon. He’d stepped through the looking glass to another world entirely, one he’d stared at for all his life yet, never knew he could enter. He didn’t know if he’d ever have braved that threshold if Nyx hadn’t come into the frame with him.

Both of them had come to each other with broken mirrors, each of them having faced a different fracture that left their own image incomplete. They had different stories, different traumas, different fists punched into the glass. Pieces had been lost to time, making mending the faults feel like an impossible task. It was only in sharing the same reflection that the cracks started to fill. Where Noctis lacked courage, Nyx’s strength molded those pieces together. Where Nyx cut himself on his sharpest edges, Noctis honed them into softer points.

They couldn’t have been more different, the porcelain prince and the wild rogue. But then, reflections were always the inverse of themselves, the opposite of what they expected to see. It was in their differences that they were most alike, where the pieces fit to make a complete whole.

“We made it in one piece.”

Noctis blinked out of his reflection. He looked to Nyx first, worried that he might have been thinking out loud. Nyx’s knowing smile neither confirmed nor denied if he was – he always seemed to know what Noct was thinking, either way. Arriving at their destination had been what he’d really meant though. Wandering through his reverie, Noctis had missed how the landscape shifted from frigid scrubland to frost-tinged forest; how the yellow flatlands sloped into white-capped hills, filling in with dark green pines and the bright orange leaves cascading from the trees he’d been dreaming about.

Nyx had been right (he was usually right, though it was dangerous to tell his ego that). Once they drove through the pass to Duscae, Lucis exploded with fall’s final dance of colors. They were just cruising beneath the famous arches that Noctis had read about, curving across the sky like spouts of water frozen in stone. Falling yellow leaves cackled underneath them, vacuumed out to Leide and its dewy blue sky. Brightest yellow of all was the canopy draped above the little festival, tucked against the base of the arches. Between the sturdy trunks of the evergreens, Wiz Chocobo Post welcomed them beneath soft autumn garlands and handmade wreathes of downy golden feathers.

It was a small, old fashioned place; brick and mortar, wood and iron. A tall, rusty windmill marked the dusty tract for parking, squeaking lazily along the path of the breeze. It was spun with yellow ribbons and faux foliage, strung down to the earth in the style of a maypole. The big yellow tent over the storefront was bedecked in branded pennant flags, fans of chocobo feathers, and stains of orange leaves caught from the trees above.

Vendors of various profession were set up around the perimeter of the ranch, hawking hot ciders and feathered dreamcatchers and cactuar carvings for the wide array of kids brought out to see the festival. There were face painters and hair braiders and costumers selling hand-knit hats and gloves and complementary bandanas. And, of course, the stars of the festival perched dutifully between it all. Noble yellow birds squawked and fluttered greetings at guests from their hitching posts, preening for greens and ready for rides. Noctis could hear constant cheering from across the street where the race track looped through the forest.

“We’re doing that,” Noctis declared, nodding towards the track as Nyx killed the engine. “Before we leave, we’ve gotta try that.”

“We’re not leaving anytime soon,” Nyx promised. “Take your time. And try not to trample the children on your way to pet the chocobos.”

“No promises,” Noctis lied, then scurried from the passenger side.

Half of the magic was seeing how happy the whole place made the kids that came to it. A little group galloped past the back of their truck astride stick chocobos, plush heads rearing ahead of their riders and given ventriloquist “kwehs” from the kids playing pretend. Noctis remembered having toys like that when he was younger, charging around his room and lassoing his dad, the outlaw king, demanding he surrender candy for dinner and spare the table the tyranny of spinach soup.

He’d promised his father a ton of pictures to make up for not bringing him out to see the festival himself. Noctis had tried, but even if he’d managed to get through the red tape plastered around that particular decision, Regis would have insisted he take Nyx out and enjoy the time with him instead. His father was generous like that – more than anyone gave him credit for. Noctis had to pay him back with as many pictures of puffy chocobo chicks and elegant yellow steeds as he could fit on his memory card.

There was a makeshift petting zoo for all of the post’s chicks, back behind the chocobo rides. A whole flock of the little butter balls bounced around the enclosure, plucking gysahl greens from open palms and accepting delicate pets along their plumage with polite supervision from a volunteer ranch hand. They were precious, and if Noctis wasn’t careful, he might end up going back to Insomnia with a whole truck bed full of them. He knelt down beside the low fence to get a close-up of an inquisitive chick blinking between the fence posts.

“Hard to believe these little balls of fluff will grow into that,” he said, taking a comparison shot of one of the steeds standing sentinel nearby.

“Some said the same thing about you as a kid,” Nyx said. “You were too adorable to grow up and be king. I still think you’re adorable though.”

Noctis rolled his eyes, sneaking another picture of Nyx absent-mindedly petting the chocobo’s neck. There were many times that Noctis hated having grown up. He wished for sweeter, simpler days, before he ever understood pain and loss, or pressure and politics. He wished for those days more before he got to know Nyx. Falling in love with him made Noctis less afraid of the future. Retreating into his past used to be his escape from the reality of everything that was ahead of him. He’d never wanted to be an adult, but with Nyx, he found it easier to grow out of his fear without ever really growing up.

He still brought out the kid in him, coaxing his old curiosities out from the dark cabinets of Noct’s heart. They went on the silliest dates sometimes, did the dumbest things that maybe most men their respective ages might scoff at. Playing boardwalk games at moogle-themed carnivals or dressing up in costumes for video game conventions, making midnight mac and cheese on rainy nights or ice-skating in Meridian Park when it snowed. Nyx accepted him for who he wanted to be, not who he was expected to be. And Noctis just wanted to have fun, to be a little dumb, to not have a care in the world about what anyone might think of him.

Nyx never once judged him for that. He didn’t treat him like a child, but he didn’t demand he grow up, either. He made it so easy to fall in love with him like that. He made Noctis feel easy with himself. Easy enough to share cups of candied nuts and take selfies with chocobos and cast a kite string line for plastic fish at the little game stand. He didn’t need to care about his image, didn’t need to worry about how it looked that the future King of Lucis played kids’ games at carnivals among the common folk. Strangers who had no idea who he even was applauded his menial fishing victories, having just as much fun as the children they were supervising.

People weren’t inhibited by some social hierarchy out here in Lucis. They just seemed to enjoy the company of each other, without even knowing each other’s names. They enjoyed laughing, full-bodied and unhindered – not the rehearsed clips of acerbic tittering Noctis was used to from the Citadel. Neither was the dancing a formal affair, nor the music stilted and stiff to match.

It was around midday when the little folk band harkening from Lestallum set up their speakers and mics along the dusty ridge overlooking Duscae. And it was Nyx who coaxed Noctis over to listen, then to move to the woodsy plucking of the guitar strings. He still wasn’t sure how Nyx managed to convince him – he smiled at him, the jerk – but before Noctis knew it, he was hand in hand with Nyx, moving along the fringes of the music.

“I don’t think I’ve ever danced like this,” Noctis said, nervously.

“Then you’ve never really danced.”

He’d waltzed with Nyx a few times before then, sneaking away from the formal functions hosted at the Citadel. And there was one evening in Nyx’s apartment where he’d started to teach Noctis how Galahdians danced, but the pressed-flush proximity that was involved had derailed into a different sort of lesson. Presently, Noctis tried studying the people bouncing to the beat around them, searching for some sort of pattern that he could translate to his own feet. Everyone seemed to be dancing to their own beat, though. There was no rhyme or reason to the way they moved, no one person’s steps matching that of another.

“Don’t overthink it, Noct,” Nyx told him. “Just move with the music.”

Noctis let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Years of strict instructions were panicking beneath his skin at not having a guide to go off of. The key was not to care, he remembered. Because no one here cared how he danced. No one was going to make a snide remark or mock him for not knowing the right steps. There were little kids with chocobo feathers braided in their hair that were stumbling around to the music, dads awkwardly shuffling with their daughters, and moms giggling as they spun their sons in circles. There were pockets of applause for every misstep, cheers for every off-beat twirl or improvised dip or break-out chicken dance that even got the band laughing.

He used Nyx as his guide, latching onto his hands every other beat to keep his own rhythm. It was messy and dusty and probably looked really dopey, but the more Noctis moved the less he cared about appearances. Because Nyx was grinning at him the whole time, moving to catch any of his stumbles or spins or spills. He was a gentle halo of warmth for Noct to keep falling back into from the crisp Duscaen breeze.

“Hey,” Noctis called from a lazy twirl at the end of Nyx’s arm. “Thanks for coming with me.”

Nyx tugged him back in, catching him with both arms and relaxing into a sway along the languid stringing of the guitars. “Thanks for wanting me to.”

Noctis smiled, sinking his head into Nyx’s chest as the slower refrain of the music lilted over the crowd. Nyx rested his chin in his hair, the two of them fitting together to create one whole. Noctis knew how much it meant to Nyx that he was wanted. He hoped that Nyx knew how much it meant to him, too. That, in spite of how different they were, how far apart in culture and status and expectations they were, crossing the distance was what mattered the most to him. That Nyx could see him so clearly from so far away, when it felt like the people he stood right next to couldn’t see him at all.

Even now, among strangers, he felt more seen when no one was looking. No one was looking for the Crown Prince to fail and make a fool of himself. People just saw a man, dancing as one of them, never once judging him for the person he wanted to dance with, not the one he was expected to.

For that, he was thankful to Lucis. Just as Nyx made it easy to fall in love with him for just accepting him as he was, Noctis was finding it easy to fall in love with Lucis for just the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little story was a trial by combat to work through this month. There was rage, there were tears, there may or may not have been some open beers, but I'm posting it and the writing gods can eat my dumb sugary fluff! Also you, I hope you enjoy it too <3


	3. Vale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Here, let me braid this in for you.” Noctis adjusted himself in their little nook so he could reach Nyx’s hair, selecting a spot among his braids for the little charm. “Promise I’ll be careful.”
> 
> “I know,” Nyx chuckled, tilting his head to help Noctis reach. “I trust you.”

“You must have cheated.”

“Uh huh. Whatever makes you feel better, hero.”

“Slipped that bird some greens before the race, didn’t you?”

“That’s just called being polite.”

Nyx huffed, totally defeated, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jacket. His face sunk below his collar like a brooding bulette retreating beneath its shell. Noctis pouted by way of apology for winning the chocobo race. He sidled up to Nyx’s side and hugged his arm between both of his, as if he could squeeze the sulk right out of him.

“Want me to get you a consolation prize?” he offered.

“I really don’t need the pity, Noct.”

“But you _do_ need an Autumn Vale present.”

Nyx smiled, a different sort of defeated exasperating his handsome face. He conceded into letting Noctis go off and buy him something while he went to move the truck. The day was dwindling down and fireworks were promised once night fell. Already, Noctis spotted hunters prowling around the perimeter of the ranch, checking the power chords and fuse boxes before the daylight whittled into darkness. Fear of the nights did not seem to be a deterring factor for those gathering along the ridge at the edge of the outpost.

Noctis was glad for that. He was glad that the Lucian people didn’t let fear stop them from celebrating tradition. Insomnia, too, had its own ways of observing the Autumn Vale, bidding farewell to the last leaves of fall with bonfires in the parks and dances through midnight. He’d felt a little guilty that he wouldn’t be attending any such dance this year, but it had never been considered the most important holiday amongst his family and friends. They would be together for the midwinter feasts and eves to exchange gifts and good company towards the end of the season. That was more important to all of them.

For now, Noctis had just wanted something different. He’d read about Duscae’s Autumn Vale Festival for years. The chocobos alone had him yearning to brave the Lucian wilds to see how his people celebrated the holiday. Next year, maybe he’d share it with his friends, as well. Or maybe he wanted to keep this as something between him and Nyx. That was probably selfish of him – he could already picture Prompto’s dramatic devastation – but Noctis enjoyed the anonymity of this little trip. He liked the privacy of having Nyx to himself and no one looking twice when he reached down to hold his hand, of no one batting an eye when he booked a single bed motel room on the outskirts of society.

The atmosphere was so light and airy around this festival, unburdened with expectations or remorse for the coming winter. All anyone seemed to care about was being together and having fun, no matter who it was with. He didn’t have to worry about every little purchase he made being analyzed by a seller that recognized his face, or catalogued for future gossip by a disguised member of the press snapping photos from across the street. Today, Noctis could get Nyx a charm for his hair as his consolation prize and holiday memento without any fear of public outcry.

The chocobo feathers were bright yellow, the beads plastic and a little gaudy – not like the sturdy, hand-carved, meaningful ones that held Nyx’s braids now – but just for the night, while no one cared how either of them looked, he hoped Nyx would accept it as a token of how much he appreciated him taking the drive. He found their rented truck pulled up behind the chocobo chick pen, the bed open and padded down in blankets to protect them from the approaching chill of the evening. Nyx was just lighting a battery powered lantern in one corner when Noctis surprised him by dangling the little charm near his head, already picking out a place where he could braid it in.

“Happy Autumn Vale,” he announced. “Forgive me now?”

Nyx snorted, shaking his head in disbelief that there was any doubt he would forgive him. “As if I could ever stay mad at you.”

They both climbed up into the truck bed and cozied amidst the blankets. Nyx draped the well-worn knitted blanket he told Noct his mother made him around their shoulders, tucking Noctis to his side in a cocoon of familiar, familial warmth. He’d tried to tell Nyx not to bring that particular blanket, fearful that it might get ruined, but Nyx had insisted, stating in a parody of his own mother’s voice that, “It’s meant to be functional, not feng shui.” In the end, Noctis was grateful for that statement. Because, despite its weathered knit, it was the coziest blanket that Nyx owned and Noctis loved it. He often found himself wrapped in it upon waking in Nyx’s bed on cold winter mornings, or finding it slipping from the back of Nyx’s armchair and onto his shoulders where they squeezed in to watch a movie on Friday nights.

It smelled like Nyx when he burrowed into it, bringing the soft fabric to his nose. There were hints of charcoal, a few singed threads, where the early days of Nyx’s magic might have simmered through. It smelled of the incense he burned on his desk by the picture of his departed sister, of his sandalwood cologne coming back from guarding formal functions, and of ginger spills by accident when he huddled down for dinner with an overfilled bowl of soup. It smelled like home; Nyx’s home; a home Noctis had been invited into calling his own. The woods may have been cold and the sky growing darker, without a magic shield to ward off the terrors of the night, but even so exposed, Noctis couldn’t have felt safer.

“Here, let me braid this in for you.” Noctis adjusted himself in their little nook so he could reach Nyx’s hair, selecting a spot among his braids for the little charm. “Promise I’ll be careful.”

“I know,” Nyx chuckled, tilting his head to help Noctis reach. “I trust you.”

Noctis bit back a smile, holding the little thrill he felt in his chest tight against his heart. He knew that trust didn’t come easy to Nyx. In a city that never wanted him, never welcomed the idea of Galahdian refugees in a position to use royal power, trust had fallen by the wayside. Especially when it came to taking pride in the traditions of his homeland. It had taken a long time for him to trust Noctis with the symbols woven in his braids, the meaning in every bead and thread. Noctis hadn’t pushed, hadn’t wanted to sound greedy for every little detail. He never wanted Nyx to feel like he was some sort of exotic attraction, like some alien flavor for the Prince of Lucis to sample before passing on to the next.

The braids were important to Nyx. Nyx was important to Noctis. He wanted to know everything about Nyx. He wanted the things that were important to him to be important to himself, too. So, Noctis knew to be careful, delicately combing his fingers through Nyx’s coarse hair to find a free space for his cheap little token of affection. It would look silly in comparison to his intricate plaits, but it was just for the night. It was just until they went back home and had to put on their airs and pretend like it was all just a childhood dream, racing chocobos through golden trees.

“There,” Noctis said, stamping down his dour thoughts. He smoothed the yellow and blue charm against the side of Nyx’s head, making sure he didn’t end up knotting it into the loose braid. “You’re a chocobo champion in spirit, if nothing else.”

“Gee, thanks,” Nyx laughed, feigning bitterness. Then his smile shifted, and he shuffled through the pockets of his jacket. “I made you a gift, too.”

“You _made_ me something? And all I did was buy you a souvenir.”

“It’s a souvenir I cherish. This is just a little something.”

From his inside pocket, Nyx produced a small, curved knife. The handheld hilt was a quickly carved piece of a branch, attached to the blade with some hefty twine and complex knots Noctis recognized from Nyx’s handiwork on various occasions. It took him a moment to recognize the material of the blade itself, but once he did, he looked up at Nyx, bemused.

“When the hell did you have the time to make this?”

“You sleep late.”

“So, what, you just threw this together before breakfast with your cup of coffee?” Noctis chuckled.

Nyx just winked at him, which only made Noctis laugh more. He turned the claw between his hands, admiring the crudely fashioned knife. He didn’t really understand why Nyx went through the trouble of taking trophies from the sabertusks that accosted them in Leide. But after being on the receiving end of this crooked claw, the knife it now made felt all the more impressive to Noct.

“Maybe it can get you out of tough spot,” Nyx said. “In case you get pinned like that again, and I’m not there.”

Nyx wrapped his hands around Noct’s then, pressing the hilt between their palms. He drew Noct’s gaze back to his, and in it, Noctis saw a storm of worry crackling in his eyes. It had been a little scrape, leaving behind a wound easily mended, but yeah. Being caught beneath the wild, carnivorous clawing of a sabertusk with no means to get himself out had been… a tad bit harrowing. If he could avoid it ever happening again, he gladly would. Noctis pulled up a smile, clutching the hilt of the knife to better reassure Nyx.

“I got it,” he promised, before teasing, “Though I doubt there will come a time where you’re not there. You’re stuck with me, you know.”

“Yeah,” Nyx chuckled, suddenly sound weak. “About that…”

Noct’s face fell, that small thrill in his heart from before galloping into a panic. What did he mean by that? Panic flared across Nyx’s face then, raising his hands to Noct’s arms to hold him closer.

“No, no, shit, I meant… That’s not what I meant…”

Nyx closed his eyes, pressing his lips together to keep himself from saying something stupid. Noctis swallowed his sudden terror, clamping his own mouth shut until Nyx composed himself. He could relate. He struggled with putting his own feelings to words, which was why he appreciated Nyx’s patience with him so much. The least he could offer was the same for him now.

Nyx took a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. His thumbs drew circles against Noct’s forearms, absent-mindedly comforting any alarm he might have felt out of his muscles. Nyx nodded out to the festival.

“So, the Autumn Vale is all about one season ending, right? But where one season ends, another is just beginning. That’s… that’s more what I meant. About being stuck together. I wanted – no, I _want_ …”

Nyx frowned, huffing in annoyance. Where Nyx had an endless fount of patience for Noctis, he had none for himself. Noctis set the sabertusk knife to the side, tentatively cupping his hand along the crook of Nyx’s jaw. He mimicked the slow circle of Nyx’s thumbs to coax the right words out of him. Finally, Nyx looked back up at him, his stormy blue eyes soft and sure.

“I want to start something new with you,” he said. “I didn’t really plan it, but I knew there wasn’t going to be a better time to ask you this than when we were out here.”

Nyx alighted the back of his hand against Noct’s cheek, as if he were brushing something away. He wasn’t crying – not yet, at least – but even without tears, it was a habit Nyx got into with him. Noctis didn’t know if he even realized he was doing it sometimes. It was the faintest, feather-light touch in their most tender moments, their serious moments, when all joking was set aside and Nyx need to signal him that this was important. That he needed Noctis to feel what he was feeling.

Nyx didn’t even ask the question before Noctis was talking, his brain moving faster than Nyx’s words could get out. “Do I even need to say it?” he asked.

Nyx blinked, confused. “You don’t have to…”

“Yes. _Yes_. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to say to you.”

Noctis kissed him before he could catch up. And he really, _really_ hoped he hadn’t been mistaken in what Nyx was implying. By the way Nyx kissed him back, frantic and amorous and holding him so close Noctis felt like he could just break into his chest and settle against his heart, he knew that he must have been right. Most times, they didn’t even need the words. They just knew.

For a moment, Noctis thought that the fireworks were just in his head. It wasn’t the first time that the intensity of Nyx’s kiss made sparks fly in his brain. They were red and white and gold, thundering above the Duscaen arches. Some were orange like leaves and some were green like pines. Some were shaped like chocobos, some even burst into glittering leaves. It took more power than Noctis thought he was capable of to pull back from Nyx, his lips tingling as he panted for breath. The fireworks burst in Nyx’s eyes, bright flashes of color electrifying the way he stared at Noctis, like he was so much more than he ever felt he was.

Nyx mouthed the words he’d meant to say underneath the blasting stars over the ridge. A silent, “ _Marry me.”_ Noctis kissed him again, while the crowd of strangers were entranced by the final lights of fall overhead. He let his hands splay against Nyx’s face, pressing fervent, breathless kisses against his mouth. In that moment, it was the only way he knew how to say the word, “ _Yes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another year may nearly be over, but my love for these two continues! In spite of how much frustration went into writing this, I did come out of it at the end reaffirming just how much I love this ship, to this day. Hope everyone had a nice little weekend with these two. Thanks to those of you who read my contribution to it! <3


End file.
